


If I Was A Softer Person

by CloudDreamer



Series: Theater of Tragicomedy [16]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDreamer/pseuds/CloudDreamer
Summary: To be Terezi Pyrope is to want.
Relationships: Gamzee Makara/Terezi Pyrope, Terezi Pyrope/Vriska Serket
Series: Theater of Tragicomedy [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1383865
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	If I Was A Softer Person

It’s not your fault if you push someone to the edge and they jump. 

If you ask a question, someone answers twice. Good end, bad end. Except it’s not good and bad, it’s necessary and worse. You’re the one who shuffles the deck and tells the to pick. You don’t have any control over the outcome, you say, as you ignore all those cards you discarded on the way. She’s standing there, and her eyes are wide. She smiles with her shark teeth like you taught her to, but the confidence doesn’t reach every inch of her. Her lips tremble. This is the point of no return. 

It’s her choice. 

It’s her choice, but there are only two options because you only let there be two options. You sit at your desk, with your computer screen tilted at you. The messages roll in, one by one, and you don’t click on any of them because she isn’t there. If she’s not there, then what’s the point? Walls of cherry red cross your screen, and you can’t bring yourself to lick the screen to read it. 

All your jokes don’t seem so funny any more. 

You don’t reread old conversations, but you remember them. You remember all the colors she made you feel, and now everything is grey. She was the sun, and she burned like it. Now you look away, and you wonder why everything’s so dark. 

He has her body somewhere, in the depths of this meteor. Making a mockery of her memory. 

You don’t want to smell it. You know you will, one of these fucked up nights, and you know you won’t be able to forget the horror on your face, in your hands. His touch is like vomit and faygo, and she tasted like everything you weren’t. She was life when you felt dead, but now she’s gone. Now she’s gone, and all you have is memories, tainted by what you didn’t do. 

You gave her a choice, didn’t you?


End file.
